say more: april 2025
growth, death and livin'
In therapy, clients will often recount something to me and then wait. Waiting for me to have a set reaction. But often, they haven’t said what this something meant to them, how they experienced it, what they felt. Which leaves me responding, “Say more…”
This is a monthly series where I explore what I engaged with—TV, books, movies, food, movement, maybe the rogue purchase—and what it made me feel.
One thing before we jump in, I show up very much as myself here. Myself first, and all my other labels are secondary. If a therapist speaking candidly feels like too much to your system, that is absolutely is OK and this may not be the best particular newsletter for you.
As corny as this feels to say, I’m growing.
I can feel myself straining at the confines of who I’ve been/who I’ve been allowed to be/how I’ve shown up.
I’m more used to the world in which something would be brimming at my lips—something I felt confident in—but I wouldn’t say it.
An idea would visit me. Clearly, forcefully. I’d ask it to come back later when it felt less burdensome. Less messy.
I’d hear what I need, but discount it before it could finish it’s train of thought.
I still contend with these fits and starts, but lately, it’s been different.
I was struggling recently with something I knew needed to be addressed with a loved one. I hemmed and hawed. “Maybe this isn’t fair of me to make such a big deal of. I’ve never brought it up before…or at least not like this. I never made issue of it then.”
In one quiet moment I heard back, “You gotta let yourself grow.”
(ooof.)
It made me think of what I’ve heard about butterflies emerging from their cocoons. That it looks gnarly as hell. So much so, people have the impulse to jump in and rescue it. But if you do, the butterfly can’t build the strength it needs in its wings to fly once it’s free.
I gotta let myself grow. Wrestle. Toil. I can’t just stay in the cocoon.
I wouldn’t say I’m unfamiliar with wrestling with myself. I am, however, less skilled in doing so with what’s external to me: people, dynamics, systems.
In some ways, I need to stop fighting what’s happening within me and start taking that—whatever that is—with me as I interact with what’s happening outside me.
But, just as it is with the butterflies, it can look gnarly.
(You may notice the bulk of these monthly roundups are now for paid subscribers. These round-ups are a labor of love and often more personal in their own specific way so this felt like the right move for me and this community. I will, however, leave the reading section before the paywall so any writers on Substack I may shout out are still as accessible as possible.)
Don't Go Back to Sleep
of describes her most recent undertaking as a “12-week ‘toe dip’ challenge […] an immersion into an unconventional approach to AA.” As I round the corner into two years of sobriety, I’ve found her writing in this project to be a much needed reflection point. A container. I’ve never “done” AA myself, although I’ve been to a few open meetings throughout my life (in graduate school and to support loved ones). I’ve been taking it slow as I read through. Pausing, breathing, wondering, challenging, integrating.Swimming in the Grief
In this piece by fellow therapist and writer on Substack,
of , she writes through her grief after her father’s recent death. I suspect the visceral way she articulates the, as she says, “weirdness” of this experience will resonate with many. She followed up this newsletter with one on how she is “fumbling through the dark with a tiny flashlight of hope.” I learned, I nodded along, I teared up.Real Ways to Help a New Mom (That She Won’t Ask For)
This nearly comprehensive list1 by
of is so thoughtful and spot on.Personally, my brain short circuits when it comes down to the best way to support the new moms in my life. It’s not the best look, but I get triggered seeing all the help I didn’t get or didn’t accept or didn’t ask for when I was a new mom.
Clients will often say a version of this to me when we begin to talk about what a child actually needs or when their friends’ or partners' parents are wonderful. It’s painful to see what we didn’t get, but desperately needed. Painful and necessary.
Care and Feeding by Laurie Woolever
I really am biased toward a story about a woman just trying to figure it out, even if especially if it’s messy as hell. As long as it feels honest, I’m in. This memoir feels like that to me.
Woolever, known to me primarily as Anthony Bourdain’s biographer and assistant prior to his death in 2018, has written and worked in the field of caring and feeding for decades. I’d be omitting the truth if I didn’t mention a large part of the reason I picked up this book was to learn more about Tony. I recognize that’s not entirely fair to her–buying a book just to read about the man she worked for–and at the same time, I know I’ll probably want to consume whatever there is to know about him for as long as I live. However, it was Woolever–her writing, her candid reckoning with all of the parts of herself–that drew me in. I think tearing through would be the apt description.
I winced, I cheered, I hoped. I ultimately understood. Her grapplings with alcohol, in particular, were written in a way that sometimes felt difficult to read, but in a good way. Like “Ooh yes, I get it.”
God of the Woods by Liz Moore
This novel, set at a summer camp, where across several decades children go missing in various ways, was a tough sell for me. It won Book of the Year for BOTM club and was on so many lists, but “kids stuff,” for lack of a better term, can make me DNF a book so fast.
Thus, I’m very mindful of when I decide to read a thriller. Trying to read about darker elements when I’m anxious never ends well, particularly when it has to do with kids. Reading for me is where I feel floaty and alive, where I visualize and wonder, not where I panic into oblivion, ya know?
At the same time, I try not to engage in too much avoidance of the scary thing. 😵💫 It really is a push pull.
I knew this author had another well-known book, Long Bright River, that recently was adapted into a TV show on Peacock so I decided to give it a shot–maybe it would parlay me into a new show? It took a bit to get into it as there are quite a few characters, but once I got a hang of what was going on and who was who, I read it in long, breathless chunks. Wanting to get to what in the world was going on. Propulsive would be the word here. The last 100 pages I stayed up way too late to finish. C'est la vie.
Disclosure: I am an affiliate of Bookshop.org—an organization that supports local independent bookstores. I may earn a small commission if you click through and make a purchase. The thoughts and feelings written here are all my own.
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